Tuesday, October 30

Guatemalan Adventure

By Chris Hallman
Woodward Camp

After landing I collected my things, changed some money, and headed for the curb to wait for a man named Hector. As I waited, alone in a strange country, I realized that I had never even bothered to get the name of my hotel. The name Hector was the only contact information I had. My friend Robin Miller had arranged everything on our end. I just packed my bags and got on the plane. I guess I'm a bit naive, but to be honest I didn't care. This was an adventure after all, and I was there to take it in. With nervous excitement I wondered if I would be able to fend for myself in this distant city.

No riding on the first day, but you can still get an "artsy" shot.

Fortunately I never had to test my survival skills as a man soon approached and introduced himself as Jeffrey, Hector's brother. Moments later Hector himself arrived and I was off to my hotel. Hector and Jeffrey it turns out were raised in Los Angeles, CA, so they spoke perfect English. Good thing I didn't need to rely on that high school Spanish either (lazy American).

The drive to the hotel was as interesting as the flight, and seeing the city close up confirmed the impressions I got from the air: life there was abundant and chaotic. They seem to have everything that we have, but with less organization and direction. It's as if you took one of everything in your kitchen, threw it in a pot, boiled it up good and hot, and called it soup. There's no recipe for life in Guatemala, everyone's just going for it. This is also evident in the great chasm between the rich and poor. Either you make it or you don't. There's very little middle ground to act as a stabilizing infrastructure.

Chillin' in the streets.

One image that will forever stick in my mind and illustrates this point perfectly is that of a shanty town in one of the great ravines. This particular ravine was maybe 300 feet deep and formed a "Y". A bridge crossed the ravine close to the juncture, and from the bridge you could see an entire city of hand-made shacks piled one on top of another, like a card castle reaching deep in to the ravine on all sides. There were literally thousands of homes, which you could imagine collapsing as easily as the card castle they resembled. There was obviously no planning, no sanitation, and no order. People had just built themselves homes with whatever they could scrounge up. Life was everywhere, trying to take hold, but it could all easily be washed away. It was one of the most amazing and startling images I have ever seen, and not getting a picture of it will haunt me until I can return.

The shanty town also reminded me of pictures you see in magazines of Native Indian ruins, and made me wonder about the lasting influence of the Mayan people. Most Guatemalans are at least part Mayan and many are full blooded. I think the Mayan people are beautiful. The reddish skin and the big brown eyes are mesmerizing, but when you stare into a women's face you feel guilty for being a white man, knowing full well that we as a race stole their land and decimated their culture. You feel even more guilty when you see advertising everywhere for American products such as Coca Cola, Marlboro and Levi's jeans; and you realize that even today we continue to destroy their culture. What right do we have selling these people our garbage? At least help them develop their own crap instead of filling up their ravines with ours. It's depressing to think that someday we might all be the same.

Be sure to check back for parts 2 & 3 for all the riding coverage.

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Related Photos:
Getting Started wtih BMX Photography
Guatemala Living Gallery